Cloudburst
by WondaKat
Summary: It's rare to see Holmes so scared that it would cause Watson to become worried. The only time he does see Holmes scared is during thunderstorms.


Title: Cloudburst

Summary: (LJ) It's rare to see Holmes so scared that it would cause Watson to become worried. The only time he does see Holmes scared is during thunderstorms.

Rated: T

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, phobias, more fluff.

A/N: Another prompt! I'm going to make this story the sequel to my last one '_**Hug a Tree'**_. I think it'd be better if you went and read that before this.

Original Prompt: _H/W-Holmes is scared of thunderstorms, so he crawls into Watson's bed in the middle of the night. Cuddling ensues._

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><p>After discovering where Holmes had been since the afternoon, Watson and Holmes walked their slightly over weight English bulldog through the big fields of Regents Park. They walked, while letting the dog off the lead for a short while, with Watson's hands in his pockets and Holmes left arm hooked in the crook of his elbow while the other clutched onto Gladstone's leash.<p>

It was a good half hour before they reached the other side of the park. Watson called his dog back by issuing a high pitched whistle into the dark of the park. Not only did he get Gladstone back but another dog, a stray, came trotting back with him. Both dogs where holding onto a long bit of tree branch between their teeth.

After shooing the stray away, allowing it to keep the branch it and Gladstone began to growl and fight over, the men and they canine walked out of the park.

They stopped by the road and waited for the hansom carriages and horse-pulled carts to go by before Holmes spoke up.

"By any chance can I interest you in cup of tea, my dear Watson?" he had asked, looking up at the taller man.

Watson looked puzzled down at the detective who, back at him, raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"Holmes, there is a time and a place for everything. I doubt that now is the time for a cup tea."

"Oh of course not, old fellow!" laughed Holmes. He then nodded his head towards the right and down the road. "Not here of course. I meant in the café just down the road, you see."

Watson looked down the road in the direction Holmes had nodded at and saw a small café called something in french that he couldn't even pronounce without sounding silly. He sighed but smiled afterwards and then looked at Holmes.

"Am I expected to pay?" He had to ask, he always paid for something when he and Holmes went out to eat. Holmes never paid, what made him think that Holmes is going to pay for evening tea?

"Nonsense, Watson. Consider this my treat. A small thanks for catching me when I fell."

He'd believe it when he saw it, but he agreed anyway. The spiking shot's of pain in his leg from before was acting up again and it just seemed to be a good idea to sit down for a little until it felt better.

They crossed the road when it was clear and walked towards the café and then inside. Only a couple and a rough looking man in the corner where in the shop. Ignoring its lack of customers and more on the heavenly sweet smell around the room, they walked over to a table in the opposite corner from the man. They sat in front of each other, with Gladstone laying down to rest next to Holmes feet.

They were there for two hours, enjoying the teas, coffees laced with some kinds of french syrups and the pastries that would block up arteries, before they made the decision that they should get going back home. Before they started to worry Mrs Hudson.

To Holmes' word, which shocked the good doctor, he paid for the tea and cakes using the money he had got from solving the last case he done last weekend. Gladstone got up as Holmes bent down to pick up his leash, his instincts telling him they were on the move again.

The men and their dog walked out into the cold night and stood under a gas lamp while Watson got his gloves on and Holmes lit a cigarette, throwing the match into a puddle beside them. Then they made their way back through Regents Park, walking under the gas lamps to see where they were heading, while Gladstone was off the leash and probably meeting up with his chum, the stray.

30 minutes later did they arrive home to Baker Street, cold and wet. The sudden change in weather from being just a bit cold to really bone chilling freezing didn't help with the pain in Watson's leg he had been feeling all day. It started to rain again as soon as they got to the other side of the park. But it didn't arrive as a few spits, to heavy drops, it just came down in a big gush. They had to run the little way back to the flat, not bothering to put Gladstone back onto his leash and were just hoping the dog would follow them. Also hoping that the stray wouldn't follow their pooch.

Thankfully he did. He was the first to enter the flat when Mrs Hudson opened the door. He got into the hall and just shook himself so the water on his coat flew everywhere, even on Mrs Hudson's dress. She shrieked, like she usually did when he did that. Holmes laugh and Watson apologised.

"I do apologise, Mrs Hudson," said Watson while Holmes still laughed like an immature child and Gladstone trotted up the stairs towards their room. "It really just poured down out their."

Mrs Hudson calmed down and smiled a little at the Doctor, but didn't give the smile to Holmes' back as he walked up the stairs, shrugging out of his jacket as he praised the dog.

"It's fine Doctor. But please, can you try towel dry him a down a little or he will get water everywhere."

"Of course." He heard the door on the landing slam, knowing that Holmes had just gone into their sitting room with the wet dog. He just hoped that Holmes would be willing to towel dry Gladstone so he wasn't wet any more. Or maybe light the fire so Gladstone could sit in front of it like usual and dry off.

Watson made his way up the stairs, not bothering to take his coat of until he was at the top of the landing. He was afraid that he had taken it of on the stairs; he would be distracted and lose his balance and fall back down, making his leg even worse.

He opened the living door and down and was glad that the air still smelt a little fresh from the when he had opened the window this afternoon to try and get rid of the stale air in the room before.

Watson walked in and shut the door behind him. It was warm in the room and saw that, indeed, Holmes had lit the fire and their pooch was lying down next to its warmth. Holmes himself was now looking out of the widow and down onto the street.

Watson took the time to took take of the gloves on his hands stuff them in his jacket pocket, leaned his cane on the wall like it when it was positioned before and then took the jacket off to hang up to dry in the warmth of the room.

He limped over to the sofa in front of the fire, wincing as a stab of pain grew stronger at every step he took. He lowered himself down onto the sofa with sigh of relief as the pain dulled when the pressure on his leg was lifted.

Hearing the sigh, Holmes turned to look at his lover. "I would ask how your leg is, old thing," he said as he walked over to the sofa to join Watson. "But then I would be called a fool for the asking such a question when seeing you in pain you're in."

Watson laughed as he shifted to make space for the other man to sit. Holmes sat down and then leaned on Watson, head on his wounded shoulder. He looked up in the doctors blue eyes with his own brown ones.

"How bad is the pain?" Holmes asked but then made a noise of disgust. "That was a foolish question to ask, I am sorry, Watson."

Watson chuckled and smiled at him. "It wasn't foolish, my friend, it wasn't foolish. It's painful indeed but nothing that a long soak in the bath can't do."

"Hmmm, then have your soak in the bath, old boy," Holmes who now was stroking Watson thigh, trying his best to help with the leg. Even though he knew that the pain was no where in his thigh. "I'll soak later on."

Holmes doesn't bathe much, only twice a week. Mostly it's because he will have a bath, but then get dirty again soon after, so he found it a waste of time. Normally, he would drop some peppermint oil onto his collar so it gave the idea that he had had a bath recently instead of like a year ago. But when he did have a long soak in the tub, it was always before Watson, just so he can get on with what wanted and so Watson didn't hog all the hot water for himself.

"Thank you," Watson said gently.

Holmes lifted his head from Watson's shoulder and went to straighten up thinking that Watson was going to get up to go to the wash room. Instead, Watson's heads went to his head and pulled him towards his face and kissed him. Holmes' eyes bugged a little but then closed as he was kissed by his lover. It didn't last very long because before Watson could slip in a bit of tongue, Holmes at pulled away with a look of disgust and blushed a pretty pink.

"Watson, please!" he said firmly to the man who gave him a frown now. "Not in front of the dog!"

Watson laughed at this. "Holmes, my sweet Holmes. Surely you are not disturbed by kissing in front of the dog?"

The said man didn't answer, instead he was climbing of the sofa and walking over to the pile of letters on the floor to start reading just he can avoid the question.

It just made Watson laugh more. "You can not be serious! Haha, you can kiss me in front of Mrs Hudson, but not the dog? My goodness!"

"Please Watson!" Holmes said in a firmer voice then a few seconds ago. "I do not wish to be humiliated any further. Go and soak to your legs content. Damn, ring for nanny to get you all the hot water you wish but please, no more pain on me."

"As you wish."

Watson got up slowly and made his way towards the living room door to go out and up the stairs to the wash room. He was still chuckling when he got into the room and still when the water was full in the tub. He took Holmes advice and soaked in the herby scented water till his hearts content. Or at least till the bath water got cold, which was an hour later. He got out and dried himself with his towel and then got into his nightgown and then his dressing gown.

Watson pulled the plug out of the bath to let the cold water go down the drained and then headed out of the room and down stairs to the living room. By that time, his leg acted up again, the bath only doing little to help. He let himself into the warmth of the room and shut the door behind him. Holmes was reading a letter from his ever growing pile of letters from desperate people in need of his help. He didn't seem to be rather interested in the letter, the bored look on face and head propped up by his left hand while other held the letter gave the game away.

Holmes looked up from reading when he heard the door of the room open and closed to see Watson come in and smiled.

"Impeccable timing, Watson," he said, throwing the letter over his shoulder without a care in the world. Watson had a feeling the letter will soon find it's self in the fire later on. "Nanny had just been with the tea." Said tea was sitting on a tray on the table that had Holmes letters like a few hours ago. Holmes leaned in front of the tea and sniffed the fragrance a little. "Ah, Earl Grey tonight. This shall perk you up in no time! Nothing like a little tea to take care of ones troubles."

How very British Watson though as he sat in his arm chair next to Holmes, watching the man himself pour tea into the tea cups next to the pot. Watson poured himself the milk and handed over the rest for Holmes' tea. While they drank their tea, Holmes started to read another one of his letters and Watson continued to read the unfinished '_Evening Standard_' paper from earlier.

"How any more idiotic can these fool's get, I say!" blundered Holmes while he screwed up the letter and threw it in the fire only for it to hit the dog instead land in the flames. "It was the uncle of the cousin who stole the family portrait. How could they not see it! It was so bloody obvious!"

"Not everyone is as cleaver as you are, old cock," Watson chuckled, finishing up the last bit of tea in his cup and then pouring himself some with some milk.

Holmes hummed his approval and went to open another letter from the pile. Watson continued to read his paper till he had had enough and set it aside.

Holmes and his very British statement had been right, he felt a lot better now. He downed the last of his second cup set the cup and saucer aside and stretched a little to find that the throbbing pain his leg a half an hour ago had eased down. Although, it now made him terribly tired now. And it was only nine at night, still too early. But maybe a good night's sleep would help a bit more? Surely it would.

"I'm calling it, Holmes." Watson yawn, getting up and out of his chair while doing so. "I'm turning in early for the night."

"Of course," Holmes replied. He ripped up the letter he had just finished and threw it up in the air in a fit of anger at another stupid client. He looked up at Watson and smiled. "I shall join you in the land of slumber soon, my dear."

"Ah, yes, about that, Holmes. I would rather sleep alone tonight." The comment took Holmes rather by surprise as Watson watched Holmes' eyes widen and then he shot out of his chair.

"Watson," Holmes started cautiously. "What have I done to upset you?"

"Nothing, you fool. I'd rather sleep alone so it can help with the pain in my leg. If I was to sleep with you tonight in a small bed, it would only cramp my leg and cause the pain to increase." Holmes nodded in understanding at where Watson was going. "Also, I wouldn't wan to disturb you by kicking you all the time because of my discomfort. It is only for one night."

"Yes, but of course," Holmes said in understanding. "The good Doctor always knows what is best. Okay, I shall sleep in my own bed tonight; you get all the sleep you need. I'll take the dog for his nightly walk too later on."

"Thank you."

Watson leaned down and kissed the shorted man on the forehead instead of the lips this time. If he tried the on the lips stunt again, it would probably get him sleeping alone for the rest of the weekend. He pulled away from Holmes and smiled.

"Good night, old thing."

"As to you, Watson."

He left Holmes to his pile of letters, the tea, the dog and the warmth of the fire and headed to the living room to go out and up to his room. His room was a little chilly because he left the window open a little to get in some fresh air earlier today. Also it was little too hot in the morning when getting changed. He did all he did before pulling back the bed sheets and getting into bed and blew out the candle that was on the bed side table. The candle he had lit as soon as he walked into the room.

Ten minutes later, he was asleep.

Holmes, meanwhile was still reading some of the letters sent to him in desperate need for some assistance. Gladstone was no longer near the fire but now laying down by Holmes feet like back in the café.

The rest of the tea in the pot got cold as he got through half of the pile of letters. But to him, it seamed never ending. Every time he picked up a new letter, it felt like another 3 has been added to the mountain. He was on the edge and was thinking about just throwing all the unopened, foolish letters on the fire and be done with it. There had to be an interesting case in the pile that he could solve until he could find the man he's currently after. Even if he had a feeling that it would be a while before see his man again.

It must have been 30 minutes later that he gave up on looking for a interesting case to work on for now and decided that he need a little air, and just from walking over to the window and opening it.

Gladstone was still at his feet when he looked down to feel a heavy mass just resting on his feet. He shifted and Gladstone felt it and looked up at his other master, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Hmmm, might as well take the dog out as well, he did promise Watson after all.

So he did just that, he went out for a little walk in his jacket, hat, scarf and umbrella just in case it rained again, with Gladstone trotting by his side. He hoped that hot water was there for him to have a bath when he gets back to the flat.

The walk wasn't long, down the long road and then back again, that was all that he needed. And it wouldn't kill the dog if he had a shorter walk then before.

There was hot water when he got back, so he had a bath, but only for 5 minutes just to get all the dirt of quick before going back to do what he was doing before; reading the never ending piles of letters from idiotic people of London.

The time was now coming up for twenty past ten; he had been so focused on getting through the letters that he forgot about the time completely. It had started to rain again heavily, the thumps could be heard on the glass of the window and strong gust of wind came through the open window and threatened to blow out the dying fire.

It was getting on and Holmes found himself falling asleep because of having nothing else to but read boring waste of letters to him. So he decided to call it a night too and like he promised, he'd sleep in his own bed tonight.

Holmes got up and went and closed the window so it blocked out the sound of pitter patter on the window ledge and closed the curtains afterwards. He used the cold tea water he put out the dying fire which was the last source of light in the room before it went now dark. Gladstone was now up and followed Holmes out of the living room door and towards his bed room along the landing, just barely getting in on time before Holmes shut the door.

Holmes walked over to his unmade bed and just got in and just laid there until he dosed off, which he knew isn't very long, 2 minutes and 25 seconds to be precise. Gladstone had managed to jump up laid down also next to Holmes and went to sleep shortly after head laid down on paws.

Soon, Holmes fell asleep too.

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><p>Holmes jolted out of his sleep and sat straight up in bed, looking around the dark room. He was sure he had heard a loud noise just a few seconds ago; it sounded like someone shifted a piece of furniture. He reached out for his pocket watch that sat on the bedside draw and looked at the time. It being too dark, he got out of bed with the watch and walked over to the window where the gas lamp was still lit and the flame protected by some glass to stop it from going out in the rain.<p>

The time was half 3 in the morning.

He threw the watch on the bed and looked around again, trying to hear for the loud noise. Was there someone in the house? Were they getting burgled? If so, they would not stand a chance while Sherlock Holmes lives in the house.

He went to get his tatty dressing gown from the living room before there was a bright flash of light from the window. Holmes went still when he saw the bright light and just waited. He hoped it wasn't what he thought that made the noise. But it was. 10 seconds later and the loud clap of thunder made Holmes jump with fright. He sat on the bed and breathed in with a hand to his chest to try and calm himself down. Gladstone was now awake and looking around to see if he could find the reason for why his sleep was disturbed and all he saw was Holmes up and awake.

Great, a thunderstorm, that's all Holmes needed. Though, at least it wasn't a burglar down stairs. But now there was the problem with the thunderstorm outside.

He hated them, practically frightened of them and has been since a small child. His father saw his fear as a sign of weakness and never helped him calm down whenever there was a thunderstorm back in his childhood. Mother was told not to help him, even when she desperately wanted to, but to their father said he had to take his fear on himself and not by comfort.

But he found comfort in his 7 years older brother, smart and caring Mycroft, who found thunderstorms to be a beautiful force of nature. He believed that rain without thunder and lightning was boring, while Holmes just preferred plain old rain instead. Mycroft used to let him cuddle up to his warm body and they would talk till Holmes would fall asleep or if it was during the day, till the storm had died down and then gone.

But, Mycroft's not here, he's somewhere on the other side of England in his country house on a weekend break away from the government. Plus, he's a bit too old to go and ask Mycroft for comfort now.

…. Buuuuuttttt, there's always Watson, who is in bed right now in his room just along the landing. But then, Watson did ask to be left alone for the night because of his injured leg playing because of the bad weather and doesn't want to also cause Holmes discomfort too if all he does is toss and turn in bed, constantly kicking him. And he promised his friend that he would spend the night in his room this night, and he was going to keep it.

An even louder clap of thunder then before made Holmes shout a little in fright because he didn't expect it. He fell on his back on the bed and bit his bottom lip to calm himself.

Then again, maybe he should just have a quick look in on Watson to see if he's sleeping in okay during the storm. And by that, he meant getting in bed with Watson and cuddling up to him till the storm passes or till he just nods of to sleep.

So he got up off the bed and walked over to his bedroom door, opened and walked out of it on to the landing, Gladstone had jumped down off the bed and trotted behind and out the door, following Holmes down the landing towards Watson's room.

Holmes got outside the door and didn't bother to knock as he let himself in, opening the door slowly so if Watson was asleep he wouldn't disturb him. He let himself in and shut the door quietly when after Gladstone was in.

Holmes looked over to where Watson's bed was in the middle of the room and his eyes looked up the shape of his friend under the bed covers, snoring softly. To what Holmes could see, Watson looked still, no signs of tossing turning of any kind. So he was going to risk getting into bed with the doctor.

Holmes walked over to the left hand side of Watson's bed. Because of his leg injury and the occasional cramps in his leg, Watson got a double bed so he could stretch out comfortably. He was sleeping on the right hand side this morning, facing the window where another flash of lightning was visible to Holmes' eyes. But Watson's left arm and leg where now laid out on the left and side of the bed like sometimes when he slept on his own. No, tonight he was all tucked up on the right hand side of the bed so there was space on the left hand side for another person to sleep with enough room to be comfortable.

So Holmes did just that. He got into bed and under the covers. The left hand side was fairly warm, Watson probably just rolled over before he entered the room. It felt nice.

"Holmes?"

Holmes, at the call of his name froze after half way brining some of the covers up to his shoulders to snuggle down into.

"Morning, Watson," he called back in a whisper to his lover. He turned over to look Watson in the eye. Watson himself blinked sleepily at Holmes as he raised himself up a little to look down at Holmes.

"Holmes," he sighed. "You promised."

Holmes nodded. "Yes I know I did, old fellow."

"You promised me you would sleep in your own bed tonight, for me."

"And to my word, I have done so."

"It doesn't look like to me you have kept your promise. Holmes, you can be so selfish sometimes."

Holmes looked at his friend now with a tiny bit of anger showing. "Watson, I assure you I only just gotten into your bed a few minutes ago. Sine around 11 a few hours ago I was fine sleeping in my bed."

A flash of lighting reflected on Watson's face just then.

"So what made you change your mind and join me in my bed.?"

Just before he was going to explain 'because of the thunderstorm outside' a bang of thunder echoed through the quiet room. Holmes winced, ducking hi head a bit so Watson couldn't see the fear on his face. But Watson spotted it.

"Ah, I see now."

Watson pulled his left hand from out from the covers and run it through Holmes tangled hair, surprisingly not getting his hand caught in the mess of hair. Holmes sighed at the feel of Watson's hand running through his hair and relaxed a little into the touch.

Watson had known about this fear that Holmes has had as a small child and still has now. He didn't find out on his own, no Holmes had told him himself. It was addressed to him when they first moved into Baker Street as a warning to him.

'I do also suffer from astraphobia so I may be on the edge whenever a storm may grace our city. Do be prepared for more unusual then I described back before explaining my phobia.'

He had be prepared because a few hours after moving in with Holmes the next, a thunderstorm rolled in and Holmes was a mess. At first he had tried to offer his help into trying and calming his friend down but the man had refused, saying he had dealt with this many of times and can do it again once more. But in the end, Watson couldn't take it now more. In the end he got a hold of Holmes and sat down with him on the sofa and embraced a bit and engaged in a conversation with the man to take him mind of the ruckus outside. After another 30 minutes, it had work, Holmes was much more at ease and the storm by then was gone.

Right now, it was obvious that Holmes was too tired to talk because his eyes kept on drooping but would shot open like was wide awake when another sound of thunder sounded outside the window. Watson, himself was also too tired to started a conversation so for now…

"Turn about Holmes," he spoke softly to the tired man next to him.

Holmes looked up at him, a little worried because if he turned around, he's be face the window that was not covered over by curtains tonight.

"Trust me," Watson encouraged, then leaning down to plant a kiss on his lover's forehead.

Holmes did as he was told and turned to face the rain drop covered glass that was the window. He winced again as a flash of light shot through the sky. There was the sound and feel of Watson moving around behind him and the warm feel of Watson's chest pressed up against him back and an arm came around to wrap partly around his waist. Holmes hand on his left came up to rest on top of Watson's while he pushed back into Watson's chest, loving the warm solid feeling of safety and love.

"Hmmm," he smiled tiredly, letting his eyes close as he did so smile. "This will do. This will do just finely."

Watson chuckled and then let out a yawn shortly after Gladstone had some how jumped up on the bed and fell asleep at the foot of the bed. "I am glad," said back to Holmes as he dipped to kiss the smaller mans neck, causing the man to moan a little and shiver.

"Good night, Watson," Holmes said to his lover, twisting his head so Watson could get another place to kiss his neck other then the same place then before.

"Good night, my dear Holmes," Watson replied back, Face now buried in the crook of Holmes' neck.

Then there was silence.

"Oh, by the way," Holmes said a few seconds later. "How's the leg now?"

"Oh," Watson smiled a little into Holmes' neck. "It's much better now. Thank you for asking."

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><p>Oh I can't wait till December for the second movie. Stephen Fry as Mycroft is going to be so delightful. I can't wait.<p>

This is going to be a trilogy, I've got it thought out so the next story is going to be the aftermath of the story and will be a sexy time one shot. Hope you enjoyed xxxx

(Now bugger off!)


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